When she woke up the next morning, Susan Pevensie laughed.
"Is this another one of your games, Lucy?" She asked, examining the bow-and-arrow marking on her hand. "You know we're both too old for this."
She stood up and stretched, feeling the pain in her old back.
Susan Pevensie had been through a lot in her life. She was alive when the Germans started bombing England. She'd had to go live in the countryside with her family. It wasn't intolerable… but her youngest sister, Lucy, was ever so fond of playing ridiculous make-believe games. Once, when they were children, she even made-believe that they were in a strange magical world.
Well, that was a lifetime ago. Back when Susan still played games like that.
In the meantime she'd grown old, and frail, and ugly.
She was currently in the house of her fifth husband. That was the problem with falling for knights in shining armor; they tended to be too heroic. They tended live short lives, running into fires after babies, or travelling overseas to fight commies, or dying in shoot-outs with criminals.
And now Susan was old. No man in the world would fall for her charms again. She'd never learned how to support herself. No children. She was alone.
Except, it seemed, Lucy.
She had no idea how Lucy had made her dream that dream, or snuck into her house and marked her hand while she slept.
But she appreciated the effort.
"Alright Lucy, I'll play along." Susan said, picking up her cane and hobbling to the center of her bedroom.
"I don't know what you're thinking with this particular game Lucy." Susan chuckled. "I suppose from this marking, you want me choose Archer? Fine." She laughed and, feeling quite silly, stretched her wrinkled hand out.
"Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull… come to me Servant Archer!"
Susan fell backwards, as a bright light like an explosion lit her room.
"Lucy…" Susan muttered, blinking. "That was too much…"
And then she saw him.
He stood in the middle of the room. He wasn't just tall either; he stood tall. Like a soldier of justice. He had a chiseled jaw, and soft gentle eyes. He had muscles on his muscles, stretching the blue uniform he was wearing thin, and giving her a very clear view of his physique.
And that uniform… Susan knew about it. Not that she was in any way a nerd, but she had married a man who was very familiar with… Captain America comics.
He knelt down. "I am Servant Archer." He said, in a handsome voice. "Are you my master?"
"Thank you Lucy…" Susan muttered, before fainting away.
"Lilo! You got a tattoo!?"
Lilo scowled at her older sister. "It's not a tattoo. It's an ancient marking of spiritual awesomeness."
"I don't care what you call it! How could you do this!? WHY!?"
"It wasn't me!" Lilo protested. "The Great Spirits have spoken! I get to be a princess with my very own servant and -!"
"Lilo! Stop!" Nani was in tears. "Please! Just stop playing these games! This is serious Lilo! Do you want child services to take you away!? Because that's what will happen if they find out I let you get a tattoo!"
"It's not a tattoo!" Lilo protested. "It's magic!"
"Lilo!"
"No!" Lilo snapped. "You never believe me! I'm going to go to my room!"
"Good!" Nani snapped back. "Because you're GROUNDED!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Lilo stormed into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Sometimes Nani made her so angry! Why wouldn't she believe her? Why would Nani not believe her own sister when she proudly showed her the magic marking of spiritual awesomeness? Why did she just have to ruin everything!?
Lilo stormed into her closet, and emerged wearing a few choice rags that she imagined resembled a wizard outfit.
"Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull!" She cried, stretching out her hand.
"… anybody."
She was momentarily blinded by the magic spell.
And then, she got to meet her new friend.
He was rail thin, and he looked… beaten. Like, he had muscles, she could tell he was strong, but the way he carried himself he looked like he'd been blown up a hundred times and gotten used to it. He was a typical, ordinary guy. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown pants, white shirt. The only distinguishing feature about his was his sideburns.
He knelt down. "So." He said, in an upper-class English accent, that was confident despite the way he held himself. "You must be my master, right?"
"I'm Lilo." She said, holding out her hand.
"Servant Engineer." The man said, shaking it with a kind smile.
John Egbert sat in a swivel-chair.
Which was, in all honesty, the best kind of chair.
He logged into Pesterchum, where he would pester his chums. Particularly, the TentacleTherapist.
EctoBiologist (EB) Began pestering TentacleTherapist (TT)
EB: hey you there?
TT: Yes.
EB: :D
EB: then let's do this thing!
EB: who you summoning?
TT: It is an interesting question that this game poses,
TT: As it reveals not only our secret aspiritions but,
TT: Who we emulate in fiction.
TT: Who our heroes our, and who we hope to summon.
EB: so… caster?
TT: Definitely Caster.
EB: i'm gonna go for protector.
TT: Interesting. Dare I ask why?
EB: well, i'm kind of hoping for a Nicholas Cage type character.
EB: you know, Nicholas Cage is always the one who protects the innocents.
EB: especially in con-air.
TT: You're hoping to summon Nicholas Cage, from Con-Air?
EB: :P
EB: and you?
TT: I think I would like…
TT: An H.P. Lovecraft horror.
TT: Or maybe Ursula, from The Little Mermaid.
EB: cool. i'm gonna summon now.
EB: whatever we summon, our team will be unstoppable.
TT: Me too. Time to see if magic is real.
John Egbert got out of his swivel-chair. He held his hand out into the middle of the room.
"Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull!" He shouted. "Come to me, Protector!"
A flash of light filled the room, and John's face shone with unmitigated delight.
In the middle of a runic circle, stood a man. He was wearing Roman armor, a shield and a sword. He had chains wrapped around his sword-hand for some reason, and instead of the Marvin-the-Martian type helmet you thought all Romans wore, he had a slightly tattered red cape with a red hood.
He knelt down. "I am Servant Protector." He said. "Are you my…"
He stopped, in bewilderment.
John was typing into pesterchum.
EB: I thought I summoned Nicholas Cage!
EB: But it's just a guy that looks a lot like him.
EB: He looks like a Roman.
TT: Lucky you.
TT: My Servant seems to be a cross between a Muppet and a Ballerina.
The Roman leaned over John's shoulder, and gaped. "I – I don't look like Nicholas Cage! Do I?" The Roman examined himself in the window, next to a Con-Air poster.
John swiveled around. "No, you don't. I'm sorry for giving you false hope for a while there."
The Roman turned and nodded. "So… hi. You're my Master right? You summoned me?"
"That's right." John nodded. "And as my Servant, I get to name you, right?"
The Roman froze. "That's not exactly how it –"
"You shall henceforth be known as… Zoosmell Pooplord."
His Servant stared at him.
Sooraya Qadir meekly walked through the marketplace of her home. It was getting late, and she was supposed to be there to look after her mother. It wouldn't do to make her wait, or to be out in the streets after dark.
As she bought a loaf of bread, she pondered once again the mysterious mark that had appeared on her hand.
It was a beautiful muslim flower, painted delicately with three broad strokes of red.
The dream that accompanied them was… disturbing. Perhaps a figment of her imagination to explain the marking? But no… if it were her mind, she might have at least tried to come up with a nice excuse. Not… not learning that her destiny was to fight in a war. A war over the Holy Grail no less. Like the Crusades of old.
What sort of twisted dream was that?
She was just about to head home, when she realized that a couple of the men in the market were looking at her… knowingly.
There were four of them, and she was surrounded.
Trapped.
One of them held a knife to her throat. Another grabbed her by the wrist, and covered her mouth as he led her into an alley. She tried to scream through his hand, tried to bite him, tried to kick him. Nothing worked.
She'd never been so scared in her entire life.
"Little girl, do not scream." Said the one holding the knife. "If you behave, we might be able to find you a good Master."
Tears streamed down her face, but she was silent as the pulled off her niqab. "I… am already owned." She said, trying one last gambit. She pulled her sleeve up, showing the others her markings. "I am already a slave, and when my master finds out you are trying to sell me again…"
"I do not recognize this mark." Said the one with the knife. They were looking a little nervous now, but he brazened on. "And if your master cares enough about you, he can simply buy you again."
It was no use. Tears streamed down Sooraya's face, as she realized she was about to be sold as a slave. She prayed to her god to help her…
And then realized he already had.
Her god had already given her the tool to escape, and told her in a dream how to use it.
Did she have the faith?
"Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull." She prayed, but before she could call out for a protector the slaver put his hand over her mouth, and pulled out a needle.
"Let's wrap this up." He muttered, preparing to inject her.
"Brothether!" She screamed through his hand. Protector, protector, protector…
There was a flash of light.
The slaver stopped and stared.
The angel knelt before them.
He was old, with greying hair. He wore a green mask, and a strange green black suit, with white gloves. He knelt and asked; "Are you my –"
He stopped.
He glared at the men who were manhandling Sooraya.
"Get 'im!" The leader said, and all four slavers took out their knives.
The Servant stood, and with menace, his fists began to surround themselves with a bright green glow, increasing to five times their size.
The slavers hesitated.
And with four quick jabs, the slavers became four craters in a wall.
"Are you all right?" He asked Sooraya.
She nodded, drying her tears, and putting her niqab back on. "I am all right." She said. "Thanks to you. Thank you, my protector."
The green man shook his head. "I am not Protector." He said.
"I am Servant Beserker."
Wesley Gibson sat in a chair.
A loaded gun was in his hands.
How did he even get a loaded gun? That was the question he'd asked himself time and time again, along with the question of where the tattoo came from. The tattoo was in the shape of a bullet. Is that funny? Is that ironic? He doesn't even know any more.
He got the gun from his ****** 'best friend'. Yeah, the same 'best ****** friend' that is currently probably in some seedy apartment with his ******* 'girlfriend'. Wesley was pretty sure he knew what he was after when he asked him if he had a gun.
He put the muzzle to his temple.
This was it. A lifetime of dreams.
A lifetime of mommy telling him he was ***** special.
A lifetime of people telling him that his life ****** meant something.
It didn't mean something.
Wesley's life didn't mean one solitary ****** thing.
So now, he was being summoned to fight in some magical war where wishes came true.
Well.
Either he was going to have something special in his life, or he was going to end his life right here and now because obviously either somebody was really truly ***** with him, or he was going mad.
He turned the safety off and held out his other hand, the one with a bullet-shaped tattoo, pointing it like a gun into the middle of the room.
"Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, come to me servant Archer!"
Flash.
Blinding light.
Wesley put down the gun, wiped an arm across his sweating forehead, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
In the middle of the room, a man stood. He was ruggedly handsome, wearing a sleek designer shirt and vest, with some sort of fancy custom gun hanging from a holster on his hip.
Elena Fisher finished setting up her camera. "Alright, time to see if this is real!"
Nathan Drake shook his head in befuddlement. "This… is absurd. This is so absurd. We are actually about to say magic words, and be magic people, despite being grown adults."
Elena smiled into the camera. "Hello future watchers!" She said. "I'm Elena Fisher, and this is my partner Nathan Drake! Now, for those of you watching this video, here's the situation. Nathan and I both woke up one morning, with eerily similar tattoos!"
She showed the camera the red markings on her hand. "Wave to the camera Nathan!"
Nathan chuckled, and waved, showing the back of his hand.
"We also both had the same dream!" Elena explained. "It was pretty amazing. Apparently, we are now caught up in a war where we summon magical servants to fight, and the winner gets a free wish!"
"I'm gonna wish for world peace if I win." Nathan informed the camera half jokingly.
"We are now going to summon our Servants." Elena said. "I'm going to choose Lancer, because apparently it's the most balanced class. Nathan is going to choose assassin, because he doesn't want anybody else's assasins to get the jump on us, and he's going to use his assassin to be my Lancer's back-up during this war."
The pair of them nodded in agreement. And as one, turned to an open clearing.
"We're going to begin the summoning now!" Elena said.
The pair of them began to chant, and when they were finished, cried; "Lancer! Assassin!"
There was a flash of light.
"Woah, did the camera get that?"
In the clearing stood two servants.
One was a demon, with skin as black as pitch. His forked tail swung lazily. His eyes glowed in the shadow of his skin. His pointed ears were pierced, and he had three cutlasses tied to his waist with a sash. He was dressed like a pirate, neck to heel; the only thing missing were the pirate-y boots. They probably wouldn't fit anyway, what with him having three toes.
The other person was oriental. He wore long, elegant robes, that wouldn't be out of place in a royal palace. He was an albino; with a pure white mohawk and blood red eyes. His shoes looked like they were specially made, with razor sharp talons.
Both knelt down and bowed.
Mello tapped his foot against the stone wall he was sitting on.
Matt sat near him in silence.
They both watched a white haired girl playing with dolls on the yard below.
"There's only one way to be sure." Matt said.
"It's patently ridiculous." Mello said, shaking his head.
Matt shrugged. "Then how did that tattoo get there?"
Mello glanced at his hand.
"This dream dude, he did say that the people branded were exceptional." Matt lit a cigarette. "Surely, he hasn't said one thing you can confirm him lying about?"
Mello gritted his teeth. "Alright… this stinks of the irrational but… just for a lark…"
"Just for a lark." Matt agreed.
"Just for a lark, let's try out this summoning business." Mello nodded, satisfied for an excuse to summon an awesome warrior without looking silly. "Just for a lark. Now… which servant would it be?"
Matt tapped his chin. "Assassin? They did say the Assassin class was for only the smartest people to use."
Mello nodded thoughtfully. "Exactly. Which is why we won't use it."
Matt raised an eyebrow.
"Assuming that this war game is the real deal, we don't want the smart people to have the Assassin class." Mello explained. "We want the people who think they're smart to have the assassin class. They will use it poorly, and we will anticipate their clumsy movements and they will fail."
"Isn't it hasty to assume that you can anticipate their movements?" Matt asked. "After all, this war will be played out by several people. One of them may be smarter than you."
"No, they won't be." Mello smirked. "Now… Beserkers would only be chosen by idiots or people who enjoy a challenge, I don't need to worry about them being taken. Archers would be chosen by cowards who aren't smart enough to be assassins. Riders, Lancers, Sabers, Casters, and Engineers are the classes to be worried about. Therefor, I must be one of those classes to prevent my enemies from taking them."
Matt whistled in appreciation. "Now see, with four to a class, that's 20 enemies you have to be worried about. And you didn't count Protectors."
"Again, Protectors will chosen by cowards or idiots." Mello bit into his chocolate bar. "Casters and Engineers seem roughly similar in physical prowess; which is to say, weak. But they do seem to have great offensive capabilities. They are glass cannons. They are Death Stars. One good hit could end them, and so I will not bother."
"Riders have steeds that could be dangerous, and they are fast. Their speed should not be underestimated. A truly cunning warrior would be a Rider. Or perhaps a Lancer; they may be weaker than the Saber, and have less range than the Archer, but that simply means they are stronger than the Archer, and have more reach than the Saber."
"So you're going to choose the Lancer than?" Matt asked. "Or a Rider?"
Mello grinned darkly, and took another bite out of his chocolate.
"Of course." Matt nodded sagely. "You never go with what your enemy expects, never mind the fact that nobody but L could keep up with your though process so far."
"Saber." Mello muttered. "Surely a great deal of the competition will attempt to secure the strongest knight class. If we choose this class, soon there will be no Sabers left, and the fools who covet the class will be left with less optimal classes. They will be at the highest disadvantage."
"While the people smart enough to have the Lancer and Rider classes, the classes you yourself admit have no obvious weaknesses, will be left alone." Matt noted.
"I would have it no other way." Mello said. "This competition will be decided by strength of will and mind. I would be delighted to defeat the opposition with a handicap, especially if it clears the field of the dunces further."
"Assuming, of course, that this game is the real deal." Matt smirked.
Mello smirked back. "Yes, of course. Assuming this war isn't fiction. Just for a lark, let's see what happens."
Mello and Matt retired to a private section of Whammy House. After a routine bug sweep, Mello held out his hand. The red mark, in the shape of a stylize M, glowed in the windowless dark, and his voice rang out.
"Pull. Pull. Pull. Pull. Pull. Come to me, Servant Saber!"
With a bright flash, the room exploded. Matt coughed in the midst of the smoke, and Mello's eyes widened in surprise.
There was a crater in the floor.
A crater gilded by magic runes.
In the center of the crater, stood a boy.
The boy looked shockingly like Mello. His red hair framed his face, a face that had the intense look of a hunter. A detective. He wore fancy period clothing, probably from around the Elizabethian Era. It had all manner of unnecessary frills. But it didn't look like the clothes of a dandy; these clothes were black, save for the frilly white undergarments, and the slight gold embroidery. The boy had a high collar, attached to a black cape. At his side, hung a sword in a silver seath with gems encrusted into the handle.
He looked like Death.
In a swift motion, the boy knelt down. "I ask of thee; art thou my Master?"
And Mello smiled, like a predator sighting his prey.
Thank you all so much for your input!
Caster and Assassin classes have already been filled. Joy! I'm glad a lot of you chose Disney Casters, although I was kind of hoping you'd go for Sci-fi Casters. I had Angier from The Prestige all lined up, and Kevin Flynn from Tron, and The Master from Doctor Who. And as for Assassin, oh I had so many hopefuls! for Classics I had the Scarlet Pimpernel, and the Phantom of the Opera! I had Mr. Teatime from Fantasy, and V from Sci-fi, and Rob Lucci, among others, from One Piece! So many assassins I couldn't count them all! I guess that's why I had you guys choose them for me.
Anyway, there's still some spots left to fill. So recommend me to your friends my friends!
Oh, and as for the guy that wants to submit stuff but doesn't have a profile, Get A Profile! As it is, I can only hope that you're reading this, because otherwise I have no other way to communicate with you, no way to send you any messages concerning why I may or may not want to include your characters in the story.
One of the key strategies to playing in the Grail War, is keeping your Servant's identity a secret. Which is why I haven't named any of the Servants summoned. A few of you will recognize the Servants you chose, and a few of you could even guess other people's Servants. But for the most parts, the identity of the Servants will be revealed dramatically over the course of the story, so take notes.
Of course, when Captain America's summoned, there's no way anybody's not going to recognize him. So, here's a list of Captain America's abilities as a Servant. I'll give you the other Servant's stats as they're revealed. I'll also say how cool your Servant is. For example; there was a pretty good chance of Captain America being chosen as a Servant. He was also in the Protector and Rider classes. But it's cool that he got chosen as an Archer, especially to a master who has some background with WWII. I have a lot planned for Captain America. It's too early to say, because we have a lot of awesome warriors here and I'm not even done processing the warriors, but I'd say Captain America's the... fourth strongest Servant in the war right now. Definitely the strongest Archer.
The Servant's Codex
(Here within are the secrets and abilities of the Servants of the 6th Holy Grail War)
ARCHER
True Name: Captain America
Master: Susan Pevensie
Alignment: Lawful Good
Strength: A+
Mana: A-
Endurance: A++
N. Phantasm: A-
Agility: A+
Speed: C+
Luck: B-
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: B
Riding: B
Personal Skills:
The Super Soldier: A+
Eternal Riding Mastery: B+
Noble Phantasms:
His Mighty Shield (Anti-Army) (A++): Captain America's first Noble Phantasm, his shield. He has complete mastery over his shield, allowing it to ricochet and stay propelled through the air potentially indefinitely. When he needs it, it will return to his hand. His Mighty Shield is without exception unbreakable, and as a symbol of his victory against the Nazi forces, can shatter any tyrannical Atmosphere Noble Phantasms.
Nomad (Anti-Unit) (C+): When Captain America dons the Nomad suit, he is able to function like an assassin, unable to be sensed by other Servants. While he has the Nomad suit equipped, he cannot weild His Mighty Shield, and he loses his connection to his Master.
Mean Right Hook (Anti-Unit) (A): Captain America's right fist became one of his Noble Phantasms after using it to punch out Hitler. He can only use this Noble Phantasm once in any war, to strike at who he deems the most evil of his enemies. To use this Noble Phatasmis to instantly K.O. his opponent.
Avengers Assemble! (Anti-Army) (A++): This is Captain America's greatest Noble Phantasm. It is a pure expression of Captain America's ideal of unity in the face of opposition, creating a Reality Marble which allows him to fight alongside his allies from various wars.